The Joy of the Game
by MaryRoyale
Summary: The War may have changed a lot of things, but not Parvati Patil's love of her favourite Quidditch team. Experiencing the game in person is always a thrill for her... even if she can't see it. Final submission for the QLFC. Prompt: Write about an avid fan of your team. No Pairings. "T" for the use of British blue language.


**The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition- FINALLY FINAL ROUND**

**Team:** Falmouth Falcons

**Author: **MaryRoyale

**Position:** Beater #2

**Prompts Used:** Checklist, Floo

**Title:** The Joy of the Game  
**Official Disclaimer**: The original characters of this story are the property of the J.K. Rowling. No infringement of pre-existing copyright is intended. It is my contention that this work of fan fiction is fair use under copyright law. No monies were received for receipt of this work.

**Pairing:** None

**Rating:** T  
**Word Count:** approx. 2900

**A/N:** I was supposed to write about a fan for my team, the Falmouth Falcons.

/\/\/\

The first time Parvati had worn make-up she had been about five years old and her sister had put it on for her; she had done Padma's make-up for her in return and they had both been extremely proud of themselves. As Parvati had gotten older she had become so skilled that she boasted that she could put her make-up on with her eyes closed, and she could, too. She had never considered it a necessary skill—putting one's make-up on with one's eyes closed—but after the war and a nasty spell from some unnamed Death Eater it had become exactly that. The slick feel of the paint as she expertly detailed a falcon on her cheek was routine as was the careful drawing of an 'F' on her other cheek. Parvati had already parti-coloured her face in grey and white and the falcon was on the white half with a white 'F' on the grey side. She had done this so many times that she could even feel when she'd made an error. When she was done she cast a small spell to clean the brushes and she put them carefully back in their case.

To anyone else Parvati's apartment might have seemed quiet, but her sharp ears caught every noise. She could hear Ganesh purring to himself in his favourite armchair, and she could hear the soft tick-tick of the clock on the wall. The central heating hummed quietly to itself as Parvati moved with easy familiarity around her apartment.

Today was going to be a great day. Today she was going to Falmouth to see the Falcons in the Semi-Finals against the Holyhead Harpies. Her old schoolmate Ginny Weasley might play for the Harpies, but Parvati was a die-hard Falcon fan and had been since she was tiny.

Her fingers moved surely over the hangers in her closet searching for the subtle clues she left for herself. Finally she found what she was searching for. A tiny vertically set safety pin on the shoulder told Parvati that this jumper was grey. A pair of jeans was easy to find since denim felt so distinctive to the touch. Parvati hummed to herself as she got ready, and went over her mental checklist one last time. She grabbed her Falcon scarf and looped it around her neck before pinning her Falcon brooch to her sweater. A quick dab of jasmine oil on her wrists and she was ready to go.

"Be good while I'm gone Ganesh," Parvati called cheerfully to her cat. She reached into the vase with the Floo Powder and flung it into her fireplace. She could hear the crackle of the flames and grinned to herself in excitement. "MoughMough Square!" She called confidently and stepped into her fireplace.

The hustle and bustle of MoughMough Square had increased tenfold due to the Quidditch match today. Parvati could feel the collective excitement of the crowd as though it were an electric current that travelled over her skin. She moved quickly to the side of the public Floo and pulled out her walking stick. It snapped open and Parvati walked over to the sidewalk that she knew was located across from the public Floo.

Happy, excited voices drifted around Parvati in a swirl. Passers-by were all speaking animatedly about who they hoped would win and why. Parvati listened to them with half an ear as she concentrated on the world around her: the warmth of the sun beat down on Parvati's head, the sounds of people walking by her and around her, the smell of roasted chestnuts and Cornish pasties from the open air stalls, the sea-salt taste of the air that Parvati always associated with Falmouth.

"Pasties here! Can't enjoy the game without a pasty," A loud voice bellowed just a bit ahead and to the right of Parvati.

She walked toward the voice and the scent of fresh-baked pasty, and stopped when she felt the warm press of bodies. She waited patiently as those in front of her purchased their pasties until she felt the warmth of the people in front of her move and she heard them walk away.

"And you, wee maid, what will you have?" The stall-keeper boomed at her.

"Do you have curry pasties?" Parvati asked curiously.

"I do," he allowed. "I've got potato and onion and I've got chicken."

"I'll take the veg," Parvati decided.

"That'll be 10 sickles," the stall-keeper informed her.

The money belt that Parvati wore had small pockets for her to separate out her knuts, sickles and galleons. She carefully pulled out two five-sickle pieces by feel and handed them over to the stall-keeper who took them from her and handed over a piping-hot pasty.

"Careful," he warned her. "I just pulled those out. They're very hot."

"I will be," she promised.

She moved away from the stall carefully holding the bag with her pasty. There was a small park nearby and Parvati loved eating there. She let the crowd carry her along until she heard the water from the small fountain outside of the Apothecary. She knew that the park was just across the street. She maneuvered her way through the crowd murmuring 'excuse me' and 'pardon' at random intervals.

MoughMough Square was pedestrian for the most part, but Parvati listened carefully for several minutes with her head cocked to the side. It unsettled Padma whenever she went out with Parvati and watched her do this. Padma thought it was uncanny that Parvati always _knew_ exactly where a sound was coming from. Parvati didn't think it was all _that_ special. It was exactly what anyone else like her did every single day. Her sharp ears caught the sound of a carriage coming from the left. She waited until it passed by and listened intently for another few minutes. When Parvati was certain that the only traffic was other pedestrians she used her walking stick to cross quickly and efficiently to the other side.

The park was just as she remembered it. The crunch of the gravel of the little marked pathways kept her moving toward her favourite tree in the back of the park. As soon as she felt the coolness of the shade on her face she knew she was in the right place. This was the tree that her family had always picnicked under when they came to watch Falcons' games. Parvati had begun to think of it as her tree. She tapped in front of herself carefully with her walking stick, but she didn't feel anything and no one cried out in pain or surprise so she sat down to eat her lunch.

/\/\/\

While crossing the streets of MoughMough Square was a fairly easy task crossing High Street in Falmouth's city centre wasn't quite as simple. Parvati could remember the first time she'd done it on her own and how terrified Padma had been, but she had done it.

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

Parvati grinned. She loved the new crosswalk signals—they made her life so much easier. Parvati walked toward the soft beeping sound and stopped when her walking stick struck the pole and her feet touched the knobby metal plates on the sidewalk that marked where to cross; she could feel the knobs even through her shoes. After crossing so many streets her fingers unerringly found the crosswalk button and she pressed it firmly.

"Wait," the electronic voice commanded. "Wait to cross High Street. Wait."

The beeping changed slightly and became louder. Parvati knew it was her turn to cross and she used her stick to navigate busy High Street without walking into someone. She knew she had made it safely across the street when she felt the metal knobs through her shoes again only to have someone grab her arm.

"Have you lost your bloody mind?" A man demanded furiously in a deep resonant voice.

Normally Parvati would have given anyone who grabbed her without her permission a severe talking to and perhaps a bit of bodily harm, but she _recognized _that voice.

"Oh my god!" She shrieked. "You're Kevin Broadmoor!"

"What?" The voice had shifted to startled surprise.

Parvati leaned close and sniffed him. A variety of scents swirled about the man who was still holding her arm rather tightly. Aftershave, mints, and tobacco were all easily recognizable. There was a fainter scent that teased Parvati's memory. "Broom polish!" She announced triumphantly.

"Here now," the man protested.

"You _are_ Kevin Broadmoor aren't you?" Parvati pressed insistently.

"Well… yeah," Kevin finally admitted. He paused for a moment. "But, er, how did you know?"

"I'm a huge fan Mr Broadmoor," Parvati gushed. She grabbed his other arm and bounced a little on the balls of her feet. "I've never seen any of your games, of course, bit before my time but my dad has always been a Falcons fan. We went to every game. No one has ever topped the records that you and your brother set. It is such a huge honour to meet you Mr Broadmoor—you don't even know! Oh! Merlin! Can I get your autograph for my dad? He'll be so thrilled. He's going to be so mad when he finds out he missed a chance to meet you. He had to go to on a business trip and he wasn't happy about missing the game, but when he finds out that he could have met _Kevin Broadmoor_… well."

"It's a pleasure to meet a fan," A different male voice said from just behind Parvati.

She squealed. "Keith Broadmoor! Oh my god! This is the best day ever!"

"Are you here for the game then?" Keith asked the amusement thick in his voice.

"She can't," Kevin protested. "She's…"

Parvati could feel Kevin shift next to her and she knew that he was gesturing to her walking stick.

"I wondered why you went tearing across the street after a bird that's far too young and too pretty for you," Keith said drily.

"Of course I can go! I never miss a Falcons game," Parvati said firmly. "Just because I can't see anything doesn't mean I can't _do_ anything."

"But," Kevin protested again.

Parvati sighed heavily. "Look if it bothers you that much you can come along. See for yourselves that I'm perfectly fine on my own." Then she grinned. "It certainly won't hurt my feelings to experience a Falcons game with the Broadmoor brothers."

"All right then," Keith agreed. "You can sit in our box with us."

"Box seats?" Parvati squealed again and jumped up and down. "Yes!"

The three of them walked together toward the Quidditch stadium. Parvati could feel the heavy bulk of their combined presence hovering just behind her. They walked along in silence for a while until one of them broke the silence.

"So, erm, how did it happen?" Keith asked. Then he rushed to apologize. "Sorry! Never mind. I mean… it's none of my never mind."

"It's okay," Parvati assured him. "It happened during the Battle of Hogwarts."

"You were there?" Kevin asked with a hint of awe in his voice. "But you're so _young_! Where you one of them… Dumbledore's Army?"

"Yeah," Parvati admitted.

"We weren't part of the Order," Keith informed her. "Didn't even know about it. Woulda joined if we had. Our mum was Muggleborn. Spent most of the war keeping an eye on her and making sure she was safe."

"So what do you do now?" Kevin asked.

"I work in a commercial potions lab," Parvati explained. She could feel both men stop and she knew they were staring at her. "What?"

"How does that work?" Keith asked.

"There are loads of potions ingredients that react badly to sunlight or even magelight and have to be kept in almost total darkness. Most potions masters have a hard time working with them because they rely so much on their vision that when it is taken away they're helpless. People like me don't have that problem. We're fine working in total darkness," she said.

"Huh," Kevin grunted.

"Never thought of that," Keith added.

"Most people don't," Parvati said with a shrug.

"Oh look, the stadium," Kevin announced.

"Here, stick with us," Keith said and grabbed her arm. "We'll get you through in a jiff."

"Wait!" Parvati protested. "I've got to get a program and a few other things."

The programs were easy and the stall-owner always kept a few in Braille for people like Parvati. She also grabbed a Falcons' hat, a large pin with their logo that cheered every few minutes, and some mittens in case it grew windy, which was fairly likely off the coast of Cornwall.

There were definitely perks to having box seats at a Quidditch match Parvati decided. The seats were cushier and they had the whole box to themselves so the press of people wasn't quite as bad. Even so this match was the last match before the Finals—whoever won here would compete against Puddlemere for the England Cup—and the excitement of the surrounding crowd was palpable. Parvati loved the smell of the Quidditch stadium at Falmouth. There was the smell of fresh cut grass, butterbeer, and pasties all mixed together with the sea air. The roar of the crowd around them was an eager, uplifted buzz. Parvati pulled out her ear cuff and carefully fitted it so that it covered from the top of her ear all the way down to the lobe.

"What's that then?" Kevin asked.

Parvati grinned at him. "It's a special link to the wireless announcer for Falmouth games," she explained.

"Are you that excited about the game then?" Keith asked.

"Aren't you?" Parvati thought she had heard disgruntlement in Keith's tone.

"Well… yeah, I guess," Keith allowed.

Kevin sighed next to her. "It's just… the club wants the players to be all nice and polite. It ain't like when me and Keith were in it. I want the Falcons to grind the Harpies into the dirt, but I don't think this Flint bloke or Pucey can bring it you know?"

Parvati snorted in amusement. "Flint can bring it. He was a Chaser for Slytherin."

"That don't mean much," Kevin pointed out. "Me and Keith were in Hufflepuff."

"Once… I can't remember what match it was… but Flint managed to get hold of a Beater's bat and go after the other team's Chasers—even though he was supposed to be a Chaser himself! McGonagall was _furious_." Parvati told the two men.

"Really?" The hope in Keith's voice was almost tangible.

"Really," Parvati assured him. "Trust me—I'm sure that Flint will bring the pain."

"This game might be better than we thought brother," Kevin said happily.

"It might at that," Keith said with a nod.

With a wiggle of happiness Parvati settled in her seat to experience what was surely going to be an amazing game—even if the best part of it was who she got to sit next to during the match.

"Welcome to the Falcons' Aerie," the announcer boomed over the stadium.

Parvati jumped to her feet with everyone else and screamed as loudly as she could. She could hear Keith and Kevin bellowing along with her.

"Today we've got an amazing match. The winner of this game—whoever it may be—," the announcer was interrupted by the swell of the crowd. 

"FALCONS!" Parvati shrieked along with everyone else.

"—will compete against Puddlemere United for the England Cup!"

"Let's give a nice Falcons welcome to the Holyhead Harpies," the announcer said cheerfully

Parvati sighed and clapped politely as each Harpy was introduced. When Ginny Weasley zoomed out Parvati clapped a little more enthusiastically.

"And now…" Excitement swelled in the stadium as the announcer paused to draw out the tension. "Our very own Falmouth Falcons!"

The crowd leapt to its feet, Parvati among them, and screamed itself hoarse as each member was introduced.

"Number 9… Chaser Marcus Flint!"

"COME ON FLINT!" Parvati bellowed as loudly as she could.

"Number 10… Chaser Adrian Pucey!"

Parvati squealed incoherently and bounced around on her feet. The little ear cuff kicked on and began to speak in her ear.

"A great day today at the Falcons' Aerie in Falmouth, Cornwall," Bob Haggerty began cheerfully. "What do you think about the new Falcons' team, Kip?"

"A good-looking group," Kip replied. "I'm wondering about Flint though. He doesn't really have a Chaser's frame. He looks more like a Beater. Reminds me of the Broadmoor brothers."

"Ah, the Broadmoor brothers," Bob's voice took on a nostalgic air. "The golden age of the Falmouth Falcons."

The two announcers waxed on about the records set by the Broadmoor brothers for several minutes and Parvati tuned them out. She had memorized the Broadmoor brothers' stats and records by the time she was six years old.

"Looks like it might be a good game, yeah?" Kevin shouted to his brother.

Keith nodded. "That Flint lad looks like a bruiser."

"Don't count Pucey out," Parvati added. "He'll do some damage on his own."

The three of them began to argue between themselves and they made a couple wagers on the outcome of the game. Parvati turned back to the game and her ear cuff when they announced the coin toss. Even if she ended up having to take the Broadmoor brothers out to dinner because she lost the wager she was still the winner because she'd still get to eat with them.

"LET'S GO FALCONS!" She bellowed. "KICK THEIR ARSES!"

/\/\/\

_A/N: I got the idea for the commercial potions labs from a tour I took once of a large Fuji Lab. They preferred to hire persons with visual impairments to work in their negative room because they had no problems working in the complete darkness. _


End file.
